


All I'm Asking For

by unfunny



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Christmas, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Friendship, M/M, Shenanigans, chestnuts roasting and all that, sugar and glitter and warmth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-06 23:51:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8774623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unfunny/pseuds/unfunny
Summary: Hansol is so, so screwed.





	

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!!!!
> 
> this technically takes place in the same universe as Show Me, but you don't need to read that to understand this... that being said, for clarity, the roommate situation is:  
> hansol + joshua live together with mingyu + minghao + wonwoo + junhui living together in the apartment next door  
> seungkwan + soonyoung + seokmin live together  
> and the rest is up to your imagination i guess
> 
> (title from the only christmas song) 
> 
> enjoy!

Hansol wakes up on December 23rd in what can only be described as _mild panic_. He sits straight up in his bed, more alert at 9 a.m. on a Sunday than he has been all week, cheap sheets sliding noisily down his front as he gasps. There’s a calendar. It’s on the far side of the bedroom, huge and obtrusive and ugly. Most of its boxes are filled with stickers, writing, and thick, dark x’s. Twenty-two of them, exactly. And Hansol, all the way from the bed, can see the glittery explosion that graces the lower half of the calendar, two days away.

He can’t believe it. How did he forget _Christmas_ was coming up? How did he, in an apartment positively slathered in twinkling string lights, pine candles, and old stuffed Santa Clauses, forget the flashiest holiday of the year?

In hindsight, it probably couldn’t have helped that he let Seungkwan take over the decorating. Seungkwan likes that sort of thing, anyway, and he’s a little picky about it, so it’s just easier to let him do what he wants. Occasionally, Seungkwan would need Hansol’s help carrying in something like a poinsettia plant or this creepy ceramic rendering of The Baby Jesus Christ. Once, Seungkwan couldn’t reach the top of the refrigerator, where he wanted to place, for whatever reason, a gingerbread house. Hansol isn’t exactly a vision of stature himself, though, and they ended up just using a chair.

The point is, Hansol had been ignoring Christmas for the most part in favor of other, less stressful things. It’s maybe his greatest character flaw, avoiding things like that. But his academic career is already plenty stressful without coming home to fret over green-to-red ratios or whatever Seungkwan does to make the apartment look so festive. And it had been pretty relaxing, spending the break watching shitty reality tv and eating cookie dough raw. Those are the things he values in life.

Next to him, Seungkwan sleeps soundly, blissfully unaware of Hansol’s crisis. He’s probably dreaming about the amazing, perfect, wonderful gift he most definitely got for Hansol, and how funny it will be to see Hansol cry over it, or something.

And Hansol has nothing. Not a candy cane, not a card, _nothing_ to give to Seungkwan. He’d be embarrassed if he weren’t too busy mentally calculating how much money exactly he has left in his checking account and which shopping center is closest to the apartment.

Seungkwan stirs in his sleep, face smushed up adorably by the pillow. He’s yet to grow out of his chubby cheeks just yet - they’ve endured five semesters of university, much to Seungkwan’s utter chagrin. His arm is still a dead weight on Hansol’s hips, fist balled up in the hem of his sweatshirt. Seungkwan pouts and mumbles some sad attempt at a complaint when Hansol tries to shimmy his way out from under his arm.

He figures now is as good a time as any to start sucking up, so he stops trying to escape, lies back down, and curls in toward Seungkwan. Seungkwan hums contentedly, and Hansol fails to fall asleep again.

❄

First, Hansol goes to Soonyoung.

Not that Soonyoung was his first choice. Soonyoung was a convenient choice, though, considering how he was already in the kitchen when Hansol got up to make eggs while Seungkwan showered.

“Morning,” he greets blearily, propped up by his elbow at the kitchen table. Hansol nods at him, counting the eggs left in the carton. There are enough to make the whole apartment breakfast if he adds some cheese and toast. Soonyoung sips on his coffee loudly.

“Where’s Seokmin?” Hansol asks, cracking the first egg.

“He’ll come when he smells the food,” says Soonyoung. He watches Hansol as he goes through the motions, turning on the stove, beating the eggs. “Hey. Guess what I got him for Christmas?”

Hansol stiffens. God, he can’t even remember what _he_ got Seokmin for Christmas. “What?” he replies, keeping his eyes on the frying pan.

“I got him a CD of this weird rock band he likes, remember, we saw them in concert? Well, I got him their new album and _guess what_.” Hansol hums, but that’s not enough for Soonyoung. “Guess _what_!” Soonyoung says, excited now. Hansol distantly worries if he knows that Seokmin can probably hear him.

“What,” Hansol nearly whispers, trying to remind Soonyoung to keep it down, maybe.

“I got it _signed_!” He searches Hansol’s face for a reaction, so Hansol smiles and gives him a thumbs up, then goes back to moving the watery eggs around in the pan.

“That’s amazing, Soonyoung. He’ll love it.”

“Yeah,” Soonyoung sighs proudly, sinking back into his seat. “So, what about you? What’d you get Seungkwan?” Hansol stays silent. Maybe if he doesn’t say anything, Soonyoung will forget. He gets closer to the pan, angling himself away from Soonyoung. “Hansol?” Soonyoung’s voice comes again, a little louder, like he’s leaning back over the table. Hansol curls further in on himself, scrapes the eggs a little too fast.

“Hansol?” Soonyoung says again, except this time, it’s right into Hansol’s ear, so Hansol flinches in shock and sends a spatulaful of eggs into the air.

“Whoa!” Soonyoung yells as Hansol shouts “My eggs!”

“Why would you do that?” Soonyoung asks.

“Why would _you_ do that?” Hansol fires back.

Soonyoung drapes an arm across Hansol’s shoulders, squeezing him comfortingly. “You seem tense. Everything okay?”

Hansol sighs. The eggs are beginning to turn brown, so he moves the pan and turns off the burner. Soonyoung keeps him close the whole time, which makes moving his arms a bit difficult, but it’s still nice. “Can I tell you something?”

Soonyoung pulls back to look at Hansol seriously. “Of course, man.”

Hansol takes a deep breath, eyes cast down so he doesn’t have to see Soonyoung’s face when he tells him. “I… I haven’t gotten Seungkwan a Christmas present yet.” He hears Soonyoung gasp and then, his arm is gone.

“What are you going to do?” Soonyoung demands.

“I don’t know!” Hansol whisper-yells, because Seungkwan could be out of the shower by now, and Soonyoung is the least discreet person on Earth and someone has to make up for it. “Help me.”

“Are those eggs?” a new, sleepy voice says. Seokmin is by Soonyoung’s side in an instant, peering over at the burnt eggs. “There’s some on the floor, too, guys.”

“Seokmin,” Soonyoung says gravely. “Guess what.”

Hansol groans. “What?” Seokmin replies, still watching the pan curiously as Hansol goes to the cupboard for plates. When he looks back, Seokmin’s eyes are widening as Soonyoung whispers into his ear. “Oh, _Hansol_.” He shakes his head, pitying.

“I know, I know. I’m the worst boyfriend _ever_ ,” Hansol starts. Seokmin’s hand grasps his shoulder firmly, yanks him in.

“No, don’t talk like that,” he insists, pressing a finger to Hansol’s lips. “You still have time.”

“Yeah,” Soonyoung interjects, stepping further into Hansol’s personal space. “I know! Get him a SHINee record.”

“That seems like it would be more for you,” Hansol mutters as best he can with Seokmin still covering his mouth.

“No!” Seokmin says. “Get him a record deal.”

“Who am I, L.A. Reid?”

“Well…” Seokmin draws his hand back to his side. “That was my best idea.”

“Guys, seriously,” Hansol whines. “What do I do?”

Seokmin squirms past him and reaches out for a plate. “Whatever you give him, it has to be from the heart,” he says, scooping up a serving of eggs.

“That’s helpful.”

“He’s right, Hansol,” Soonyoung adds while he makes grabby hands at Seokmin for a plate. “It should be something meaningful.”

After that, they scurry to the table and fill their mouths with breakfast, leaving Hansol standing alone with no real progress and no more eggs.

❄

Next, Hansol goes to Jisoo. Jisoo’s usually pretty good at this stuff, but Hansol needs to run by the apartment anyway, since he’s out of clean clothes at Seungkwan’s place and they’ve been too lazy to do laundry.

Jeonghan is there, too, sprawled out on the couch with the remote on his belly and his hand in a bag of Doritos. He gives Hansol a nod when he enters, then goes back to watching Say Yes to the Dress.

Jisoo is at the kitchen table, writing neatly on a notepad, when Hansol drags out the chair opposite him. “Shua,” he whispers.

“Hey, Hansol, can you check out this list? I feel like I’m forgetting something.” He pushes the notepad across the table. Hansol glances over the list, which takes up a couple pages, mostly with weird finger-foods, and things like paper cups and plates.

“Uh, what’s this for?”

Jisoo looks at Hansol like he’s dumb. “For the party?”

“What party?”

Jisoo’s face gets a little more incredulous. “The Christmas party that we’re hosting?” Oh, right. Hansol vaguely remembers that. It was something he’d let Jisoo takes the reins of weeks ago, back when the semester had just ended and he wasn’t ready to devote much brain power to anything just yet.

Hansol pauses. “Looks good, I guess. But listen, I have a problem-”

“You totally forgot, didn’t you?” Jisoo accuses, snatching back the notepad.

“What? No way,” Hansol lies.

Jisoo can tell. “Whatever, it’s fine,” he sighs, tearing out the list and folding it up neatly. “Don’t you need to be meeting Seungcheol soon?” When Hansol doesn’t respond, he adds, “You’re supposed to stop by today, remember?”

“Um-”

“Oh my gosh,” Jisoo says, rubbing at his forehead. Then, he eyes Hansol seriously. “You’re supposed to go with him to get the robot Santa.”

This is where Jisoo really loses him. “Robot Santa?”

“He hasn’t been paying any attention, has he?” Jeonghan pipes up, unnecessarily.

“He sure hasn’t,” agrees Jisoo. They have a moment of scoffing at each other, like _can you believe this guy?_ They have a terrible habit of talking about people like they aren’t in the room.

“Look, fine, I’ll go to Seungcheol and get you your robot Santa, but I need help with something,” Hansol nearly begs. Jeonghan sits up and turns around on the couch to face Hansol, and Jisoo gives him a nod. “So…I forgot to get Seungkwan a Christmas present.” Jeonghan lets his mouth fall open dramatically, Jisoo covers his chest with a hand, and Hansol tries not to roll his eyes. “Okay, it’s not that big of a deal, I just need some ideas-”

“Start packing,” Jeonghan snorts.

“Oh, come on, Seungkwan wouldn’t be _that_ mad.”

“Wouldn’t he?” Jeonghan hops off the couch and makes his way over to Hansol’s seat. “This is technically your one-and-a-half-year anniversary.”

“I don’t think that’s a thing,” Hansol says, but then again, what if it is a thing? What if Seungkwan went _doubly_ hard this Christmas because of this strange milestone Hansol wasn’t even aware of?

“Isn’t it?” Jeonghan says knowingly, and with this smug smile that makes Hansol even more unsure of himself. He feels like he should be able to predict how Seungkwan will react to things better than Jeonghan can, but now he’s remembering that Jeonghan has known him longer. And, apparently, Hansol has become very forgetful. Maybe he shouldn’t trust his instincts.

“I don’t know,” he says eventually.

“You still have time,” Jisoo interjects. “It’ll be fine. And speaking of time…”

“All right, I’m going,” Hansol says, pulling his coat back on. “Wait. Where’s Seungcheol?”

“At the studio with Jihoon,” Jisoo tells him, ushering him unsubtly out the door.

“Don’t come back without a robot Santa!” Jeonghan shouts after him, and it’s hard to tell if he’s joking.

❄

Hansol isn’t sure who Jihoon intimidated into leaving the university’s music department studio unlocked the day before Christmas Eve, but he’s not all that surprised. Jihoon will probably have to be dragged out sometime tonight by one of his roommates, pouting about Christmas cheer and being forced to don his gay apparel.

He parks (illegally) in a staff spot as close as he can get to the building and rushes inside, because it’s starting to snow and he’s not dressed as sensibly as he should be, really. He weaves through the familiar halls to where he can faintly hear a bass line behind a thick door.

When he steps inside the studio, nobody notices. Jihoon and Seungcheol are carefully watching the monitors as an beat plays through, pausing it here and there and speaking in a language Hansol doesn’t really understand.

“Hey,” Hansol says finally, tossing his coat on the couch behind their setup. Seungcheol spins around in his chair and pulls his headphones off. Jihoon doesn’t seem to know or care that Hansol’s in the room until Seungcheol bumps his shoulder. “Sorry to steal him. We have to go get something.”

“Something for what?” Jihoon asks. His fingers stay poised over the keyboard, like if Hansol doesn’t start saying something interesting, he’s going to go back to ignoring him.

“For the party tomorrow,” Seungcheol says. Then he gives Jihoon a look. “You’re coming.”

“Says you,” Jihoon grumbles unconvincingly.

Seungcheol stands with a hand on Jihoon’s shoulder. “You wanna come with us? We’re buying a life size robot Santa Clause.”

“Where did you possibly find that?” Jihoon asks, looking disturbed.

“I have a guy,” Seungcheol replies cryptically.

“Sounds like a shady craigslist deal in the making,” Jihoon sighs, turning back to face his computers. “I’ll see you on the eleven o’clock news.”

“Um,” Hansol interjects. “I think we might also need to run by the mall.” Seungcheol stops pulling faces at Jihoon to regard him questioningly. “It’s just that… I’ve kind of been caught up this month and I maybe, definitely forgot to get Seungkwan a present,” he spills, rushing it all out in one breath, getting quieter and quieter until he’s practically whispering at the end.

Jihoon whirls around again. “You what?”

Hansol can’t repeat it. “I _know_ ,” he complains. “There’s no time to scold me, just tell me what to do.”

Seungcheol is shaking his head. “You don’t have any ideas?”

“Not really,” he pauses to think. “What about a ring? Or a pair of shoes? Or a fancy bowl? Candles?” he’s rambling now, rattling off any objects he can think of. “Belt, backpack, CD player, Travel Scrabble, pens, rock salt, a big mirror, a tiny Bible-”

“These are _horrible_ ,” Jihoon interrupts. Hansol realizes he’s pacing back and forth across the little rug in front of the couch and freezes. “Your gift needs to be from the heart. Duh.”

Hansol collapses backwards onto the couch. “What does that even _mean_?”

“It means the Christmas party is tomorrow, and Jeonghan will bar me from your apartment if I’m not hauling in a giant singing Santa Claus, so let’s go.” Seungcheol throws Hansol’s coat over his lap. “Maybe something will jump out at you at the mall?”

“Maybe Seungkwan will jump out of your relationship,” Jihoon snickers.

“That’s not even _funny_ ,” Hansol starts, but Seungcheol pulls him out of the room by the back of his collar and Jihoon ends up getting the last word.

❄

Seungcheol wasn’t kidding when he called the robot Santa life size. It’s taller than Hansol is and probably weighs more, too. It’s got this creepy, plastic-y skin that looks like it’s been spray-painted red on the cheeks, fake white hair, and the entire Santa Claus getup. It sings three different Christmas songs in two languages, and it’s the worst thing Hansol has ever laid eyes on.

It’s a real feat shoving the thing into Seungcheol’s minivan; it starts singing halfway through and Hansol almost gives up, but Seungcheol’s strong enough that he gives it one final push across the trunk and the folded-down back seats. Then, he rips its batteries out of the compartment hidden tastefully on its ass.

They drive to the mall with Santa’s head face-down in between their elbows and Jihoon’s newest instrumental track on the speakers, something upbeat and charming and sure to be a hit when it’s complete.

“What do you think?” Seungcheol asks once the song is over.

“I really like it,” Hansol tells him honestly. “The bridge - I think? It’s really catchy, I like the trumpets.” He doesn’t actually feel qualified to have an opinion yet. He’s only been under Jihoon’s tutelage for a few months now, and Jihoon swears he’s got a good ear, but he still feels pretty self conscious about offering his opinion about someone so gifted. “Who’s gonna do the vocals?”

Seungcheol pulls into a parking spot. “Jeonghan and Jisoo, I’m pretty sure.”

“I’m sure everyone will love it,” Hansol says confidently, climbing out into the cold air.

“He still wants to use your lyrics, you know.”

He pauses to watch Seungcheol’s face for any hint of a joke. “Seriously?” Seungcheol nods. “They’re not even that good.”

“Sure they are!” he assures, smacking Hansol’s back. “Now, should we cover up Santa? I don’t want him to get stolen.”

“I don’t think that will be an issue,” Hansol says as a customer walks by and peers through the minivan’s windows with unhidden confusion on their face, and maybe a little terror.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he concedes, and the doors lock with a weak honk of finality.

 

Hansol drags Seungcheol into more stores than he even knew were in the mall to begin with. At Yankee Candle, they smell about ten thousand candles, if he were to estimate, and they eventually blur together into one big sickly sweet, spicy, and fruity blend that gives Hansol a headache and makes Seungcheol sneezy. In the end, a candle doesn’t really seem like a good, “from the heart” gift anyway (and honestly, Seungkwan would probably love the Cotton Candy 3-Wick, but Hansol won’t put himself through that).

Seungcheol suggests they go to J. Crew, which is a store Hansol is a little intimidated by, but surely a gift from a place like that would scream maturity, and Hansol is on a mission to impress. They flip through racks of button-downs and chinos, all of them rigid and bland. Seungkwan would look weird in these clothes, Hansol thinks, like somebody’s boring dad. He tells Seungcheol, “None of this is cute enough for him.”

Seungcheol says, “Aw.” Then, he laughs and pulls out the price tag from the collar of a polo. They both hightail it out of there, feeling embarrassed.

Next, they enter Sephora. Seungkwan is by no means a makeup collector, but Hansol has borrowed a few lipsticks and eyeliners from him, so he knows he’s no stranger either. Plus, he’s pretty good at it. One time Seungkwan gave Hansol a makeover, dusting his face with all sorts of powders that Hansol didn’t know much about, and he looked kind of awesome by the end of it.

So, although Seungcheol and Hansol feel a little out of place in the bright lights, surrounded by plenty of people that look very secure and knowledgeable and not at all confused by the brand names floating around the cramped store, they shake off their fear for the sake of a decent gift. They squeeze into a less crowded aisle next to a long row of glittery lipsticks by a designer Hansol swears did luggage.

He’s never heard of most of these products and neither has Seungcheol, which must be easily read on their faces, because a sales associate approaches them where they’re starting to sort of hide behind the back corner display. “Can I help you two today?” the associate asks, cheerfully and a little too near to their faces.

“Uh,” Seungcheol starts shakily. “Yes, please.”

“All righty, what are you looking for?” they ask, still leaning in close, like they’re about to spill some company secrets.

“I don’t know,” Hansol says honestly, and they all share a little laugh at that.

“Oh, is this a gift?” they say, smiling conspiratorially. “For a special someone?” Hansol chuckles awkwardly, which must be all the associate needs for confirmation. “Follow me.”

Hansol goes blindly after them, checking once to make sure Seungcheol is still beside him. They stick close together, like without a guide they’ll be lost forever. The sales associate leads them to a wall of colorful bottles, each simple and pretty. “These are body washes, you can’t go wrong,” they tell Hansol. Hansol’s eyes scan across every scent in a panic. They are named after foods, mostly, and Hansol isn’t sure how he feels about it, but the associate says, “Go on, pick one.”

Hansol glances over at Seungcheol, who shrugs. He quickly grabs a pink bottle labelled “Sweet Treat” and smiles as convincingly as he can, ready for this to be over already. Sweet Treat sounds too vague, but Seungkwan likes sweet things, so maybe it’s perfect. A basket materializes in the sales associate’s hands, so Hansol drops the bottle in.

After that, the process repeats itself a few times and Hansol ends up with Sweet Treat Body Wash, a hot orange nail polish, two pretty pink lip glosses (“You can’t buy just one!” the sales associate had insisted) and a tube of mascara. He’s put a lot of his trust in this employee and their pushy attitude, so he hopes Seungkwan likes this stuff. The line for the cash register is too short for Hansol to think much about the gifts, but Seungcheol gives him a thumbs up from the side, so he tries to look ready when he’s called up to pay.

“Are you a Beauty Insider?” the cashier asks rather rudely, popping a large wad of green bubble gum. When Hansol stumbles over his words confusedly, she continues. “Would you like to be one?” Hansol shakes his head frantically. There are some beeps. Then, “That’ll be a hundred twenty-seven, sixty cents. Debit or credit?” Hansol chokes on his spit.

She says it really casually, like that’s a normal number of dollars. A normal number of dollars for what Hansol suddenly thinks are several containers of glorified goop. His head snaps to Seungcheol, who’s already looking back with wide eyes. The cashier snaps on her bubble gum again, impatient, and Hansol tries to communicate something to Seungcheol, and they’re both standing there looking stupid, holding up the line. “Uh,” Hansol stammers, trying to come up with some excuse. He settles on, “This isn’t my credit card.”

At the same time, Seungcheol says, “Hansol, there’s a fire!” in a poor show of his deceptive skills, clutching the line divider dramatically. Halfway through, Seungcheol hears what Hansol is saying, and Hansol hears what Seungcheol is saying, so they fade out in a weak whimper that sounds like two stage actors saying the wrong lines together and watching their careers die in real time. Or something like that.

“And there’s a fire,” Hansol sighs. The cashier looks equal parts unamused and apathetic, slowly dragging back Hansol’s bag of products. “Bye.”

“Next!” the cashier calls, and Hansol does a speed walk of shame through the clusters of customers and out the door with Seungcheol close behind.

“This sucks,” Hansol groans pathetically, lamenting to the corroding copper fountain in front of a Williams-Sonoma. Seungcheol rubs his back comfortingly. Beside them, a child throws a fistful of pennies into the water, making a wish with tightly closed eyes. “I’m never going to find the perfect gift, and Seungkwan will dump me, and I’ll have no friends.”

“I know you don’t believe that,” Seungcheol says calmly. “Even if you don’t find the perfect gift, I doubt Seungkwan will care.”

Hansol buries his face in his hands. “Last year he got me Drake tickets.”

“I remember.”

“And I got him _Vans_ ,” Hansol whines into his palms. “He doesn’t even like Vans. I’m a bad boyfriend and I have no money.”

“Pull yourself together,” Seungcheol says, guiding him away from the fountain and over to a waiting area. Hansol falls into a seat lazily and lets his head flop back. “You’re not a bad boyfriend.” Hansol begins to protest, but Seungcheol silences him with a raised hand. “Who helped him through the chemistry course he would’ve otherwise failed?” Hansol crosses his arms and avoids Seungcheol’s eyes. “Who surprised him with a trip home to Jeju? Who makes him breakfast every morning?”

Hansol sighs long and loudly, fighting back a smile. “And who does Seungkwan love more than anyone?”

“His mom,” Hansol answers petulantly.

Seungcheol flicks him on the forehead. “Well, right after his mom, it’s you. So, quit pouting.” Hansol straightens up in his seat, trying to look more confident than he feels and resisting the urge to rub at his new sore spot. Seungcheol gives him a serious look. “You and I both know the perfect gift isn’t going to be here.”

And Hansol knows what he has to do. He’s probably known it all along. “I’m nervous,” he says.

“I believe in you.” Then, Seungcheol puts Hansol in a gentle headlock, messing up his hair until he finally laughs. “Come on, let’s get something to eat.”

❄

They should have left when they had the chance.

They’re in line for Panda Express when they hear it.

“Haaaaannnnnnsoooooooool!” There’s a loud shushing, some laughter, and Hansol squeezes his eyes shut. Maybe he’ll turn invisible.

“Cheeeeeooooolllllliiiieeeeeee!” Seungcheol smiles wearily at Hansol. The workers spooning out their rice eye them suspiciously, but say nothing.

For a few moments, there’s silence, but they know better. As soon as Hansol has paid, he turns around to see Junhui and Mingyu at a table in the dead center of the food court, standing and waving with matching grins. Minghao is flushed red and tugging insistently on Junhui’s sleeve, and Wonwoo has his head on the table.

“Come here!” Junhui shouts, waving them over like they don’t already know what he wants. Just for fun, Seungcheol points at himself in mock confusion and looks around behind him. “You, Seungcheol! Hansol!” Seungcheol nods like he understands now, laughing to himself.

They make their way to the table, and Junhui and Mingyu sit, which makes Minghao and Wonwoo look less on edge. Minghao still makes a face at Junhui, though. “What are you guys doing here?” Seungcheol asks as they drag a couple of chairs over and squeeze around the table.

“We’re here to see the big Christmas tree,” Mingyu says. “Have you seen it? It’s ginormous.”

“Can’t say we have,” says Hansol through a mouthful of rice.

“What are you guys here for?” Wonwoo asks innocently. Seungcheol and Hansol share a quick look; Hansol shakes his head minutely and prays he gets the hint.

“Uh, just hanging out,” he says, then takes a long sip of his drink.

“Now we can all hang out together,” Junhui says excitedly. “I feel like I never see you!”

“We had dinner at Hansol’s place two nights ago,” Wonwoo reminds him.

“Yeah, and you know, we have the Christmas party tomorrow…” Hansol says. He loves his neighbors, he really does, but it’s already getting late and he still has Seungkwan’s present to worry about.

“There’s no such thing as too much time with the ones you love,” Mingyu says seriously, reaching across Minghao to place his hand gingerly on Hansol’s.

“Okay,” Hansol nods, pulling back his hand. Minghao at least saves Mingyu some embarrassment and takes his hand into his lap. “It’s just that I’ve got to, uh, finish wrapping presents.”

“Oh, do you need some help?” Wonwoo asks. “I’m a pretty good wrapper, if I do say so myself.”

Hansol cringes inwardly. “I think I got it, really,” he squeaks. “There’s just too much to save until morning.”

“Well, then, shouldn’t you come over? You hid Soonyoung and Seokmin’s presents at our place, remember? And Jisoo’s, Jeonghan’s, Seungcheol’s, and Jihoon’s, now that I think about it.”

No, Hansol did not remember that. He looks to the ceiling, for a moment of peace to gather his thoughts. “Those don’t need to be wrapped.”

Seungcheol winces visibly. “Well, who else is there? Are you only wrapping our presents?” Wonwoo jokes, chuckling.

“Yep!” Hansol chirps. “So I’m sure you want me to get right to that-”

“Hold on, Chwe. Something’s fishy here,” Minghao says, looking too deeply into Hansol’s eyes, testing him.

“What is it?” Junhui whispers, following Minghao’s eyes with his own. Hansol rears back and tries to hold still, as Seungcheol similarly tenses beside him.

“I don’t know,” Minghao drawls. “But something tells me he’s lying.” Junhui gasps.

“What do you mean?” Hansol laughs nervously. “Lying?”

“No, I smell it, too,” Mingyu butts in, leaning across the table. “What are you hiding?” Mingyu demands.

“Nothing!” Hansol stammers for a moment. “This is-this is groundless!”

He looks to Wonwoo, the sensible one, the one he trusts. He appears to consider for a moment, taking in Hansol’s face thoughtfully. “I’ll allow it,” he decides, and a small part of Hansol dies.

“Where were you last night?” Mingyu orders, shining his iPhone’s flashlight in Hansol’s face.

“Ah, my _boyfriend’s_ house, you jerk.”

“Stop that,” Minghao grumbles, wrestling the phone out of his hands.

“How convenient,” Mingyu continues. “If I were to call up your precious,” he uses air quotes here, “ _boyfriend_ , would he have the same story? Or would he be just as curious about why you’re here?”

“Don’t!” Hansol shouts suddenly, and it’s far too suspicious. “I mean… don’t bother him. He’s at church.”

“Church?” Minghao’s face sours in disbelief. “It’s a Friday.”

“Don’t be disrespectful,” Junhui murmurs under his breath. Minghao rolls his eyes.

Seungcheol’s hand is slowly slipping over Hansol’s left knee and Wonwoo scrutinizes his face, seemingly putting together the pieces before his very eyes. Hansol’s half panicking, because Seungkwan _can’t_ know he’s here, or he’ll definitely know Hansol forgot his present. They know each other too well. Seungcheol’s hand is now resting heavily on Hansol’s thigh and he would ask why he’s being felt up, but he’s too busy trying to telepathically redirect Wonwoo’s train of thought.

Then, there’s a voice in Hansol’s ear. “ _Go_ ,” Seungcheol is saying. Hansol looks down to see the keys to the minivan in his lap. “I’ll hold them off.”

With that, he’s off, jogging away from the rowdy table and pretending not to hear Wonwoo spill the beans to everyone or the shocked responses that follow. He starts walking once he turns the corner, because _wow_ he’s been lazy for the past three weeks, and he doesn’t want to faint or anything.

He sends a quick text to Seungkwan when he gets in the car to let him know he’s alive, as he’s learned is polite to do. Once, Hansol forgot his phone for a whole weekend while he was away and Seungkwan thought he died and cried for an hour when he got back. So these days, he tries to keep his phone on him and give Seungkwan little updates. This time, it’s a bit of a lie.

 **To: boo thing**  
_going to my place for the night. i’ll come get you tomorrow for the party_

 **From: boo thing**  
_you’re not spending the night?_

 **To: boo thing**  
_i can’t… Jisoo needs me_

 **From: boo thing**  
_mhm_

 **From: boo thing**  
_i made chocolate cake_

 **To: boo thing**  
_what_

 **To: boo thing**  
_babe_

 **From: boo thing**  
_yeah :/_

 **To: boo thing**  
_nooooo_

 **From: boo thing**  
_i’m just kidding_

 **From: boo thing**  
_go enjoy your bro time with Jisoo_

 **To: boo thing**  
_don’t call it that_

 **From: boo thing**  
_bro it up babe_

 **To: boo thing**  
_gross_

 **To: boo thing**  
_love you_

 **From: boo thing**  
_love you 2_

When Hansol locks his phone and reaches for the gearshift, he has a small crisis upon seeing the curly mess of Robot Santa’s fake hair, looking far more ominous in the dark of the winter evening and the stark shadows from the minivan’s ceiling lights. He freezes until his heart calms down, then he throws it in reverse and makes a graceless five-point turn out of the parking space, grimacing apologetically at an antsy-looking driver behind him at the minivan’s abysmal turning radius, and goes.

❄

“You gotta help me.”

“We’re _swamped_.”

Hansol allows himself an overdue sigh. “I will desert him here.”

There’s Jeonghan’s laughter, sounding distant through the phone. “These cookies aren’t going to decorate themselves, Hansol!”

“Fine then,” Hansol snaps. “Robot Santa can freeze to death out here, for all I care.”

“Hansol,” Jisoo says, obnoxiously soft, and Hansol does not have _time_ for this. “Just give us a few minutes. Or come up and help?”

“I have to go back to the studio,” Hansol explains. “If I don’t unload this holly jolly abomination now, I won’t have another chance until Seungkwan and I come over here for the party.” There’s a long pause on Jisoo’s end, too long, and Hansol tries one last time. “I’ll leave him on the sidewalk for whatever drifter wants him, seriously - I have to _go_.”

“Fine,” Jeonghan says, sounding like he’s snatched the phone. “But you have to sing a carol tomorrow to make up for interrupting us.”

“Whatever,” Hansol grumbles. “I’ll sing all the carols you want.”

Soon enough, Jisoo and Jeonghan are on the street, shivering in their matching reindeer pajamas. There’s icing around both their mouths and they look very ridiculous out here in the dark.

Nevertheless, they all get to work yanking the robot out of the minivan, catching it just barely before it topples onto the pavement. Hauling the thing out to the minivan had been a struggle, but carrying it down the street and up two flights of stairs is a battle. As it turns out, Hansol hadn’t really tried that hard when Seungcheol was part of the equation, but the three of them are worth approximately one half of a Seungcheol and they have to take a lot of breaks.

Sometime between cursing the out-of-order elevator and bargaining with God, Hansol says, “So, now that I’ve got you here…” which makes Jeonghan and Jisoo look very affronted, but it’s not like they can get away. Hansol has Santa’s upper body cradled in his arms several steps above them, and if they try to escape, he’ll drop him, he swears.

“What now,” Jeonghan breathes, flicking his sweaty hair off his forehead only for it to fall back again.

“You gotta come with me to the studio,” Hansol says as he heaves the robot up a few steps. Jeonghan and Jisoo scramble up after him with one leg each. “It’s for Seungkwan’s present,” he adds, and prays they find it in their hearts to care. Technically, this is all his fault, and nobody _has_ to help him, but that’s what friends are for. Helping each other when they’d rather be doing anything else.

Like, one time, Mingyu got really nervous before going to the dentist.

He dug his heels into the floor when Minghao tried to pull him out the door, shaking his head and pouting. And once he got him out of the apartment, Mingyu just sank to the floor like a dead weight in the hall and refused to get up. Wonwoo and Junhui weren’t home, so Minghao knocked on Jisoo and Hansol’s door.

“I don’t know why he’s so scared,” Minghao said, looking exasperated and concerned. “What do I do?”

Hansol and Jisoo had been in the middle of a very important game of Battleship. It was down to crunch time - Jisoo was closing in on Hansol’s aircraft carrier and Hansol had just critically wounded Jisoo’s submarine. So, they were both a little preoccupied. Hansol almost said, “Who needs the dentist, anyway?” Instead, they both took a seat by Mingyu, rubbing his back while he sat there with crossed arms.

“What’s this about, buddy?” Jisoo started, voice low and sweet. Mingyu was still pouting, but he softened a little.

“I don’t wanna get my mouth drilled,” said Mingyu.

“I doubt they’ll drill your mouth,” Hansol assured him. “They’re just gonna clean your teeth.”

Mingyu sunk further into the floor. “I don’t _wanna_ get my teeth cleaned.” He seemed awfully distressed about it, and Minghao looked ready to call Wonwoo and Junhui, fingers twitching around his phone.

“You know,” Jisoo said, leaning in close, “we can go with you, if you want.”

Mingyu looked up. “Really? Can you go back with me? I don’t want you in the waiting room.”

Minghao was nodding insistently, begging them with his eyes. Begging them with the weight of a long-enduring, blackmail-rich friendship.

And that’s how the three of them ended up huddled around a confused dental hygienist, massaging Mingyu’s hands and showing him toys from the kids’ reward buckets while he took deep breaths. In the end, he did very well, even though his dentist seemed a little weirded out.

So right now, Hansol needs Jisoo and Jeonghan to be his proverbial friends at the dentist, holding his hands through the journey of saving his ass from his boyfriend’s wrath and all that.

Jisoo gives Hansol a look. “I just wanted to decorate my cookies,” he groans. They climb a few more steps. “They’re for the real Santa.”

They maneuver the robot around the tricky bend of the platform and up the first few steps of the next flight before pausing again. “I’m sure he won’t mind,” Hansol huffs. “Please?”

“Agh,” Jeonghan grunts, giving his leg a shove. “You already know we’ll help you, so come on. I want this thing serenading me within the next three minutes.” He musters up all the energy from his second wind and drives Santa up, forcing Hansol backwards up the rest of the flight. They scurry out of the stairwell and down the hall until Hansol can unlock and kick open the apartment door, then they’re stumbling into the foyer with the last of their strength.

“I need a minute,” Jisoo wheezes, crashing onto the couch. Jeonghan makes it as far as the kitchen table, landing conveniently in front of a stray bottle of water, which he immediately chugs. Hansol plops down in the middle of the floor, criss cross and suddenly very aware of his noodly arms. They all just breathe for a bit, until Jeonghan remembers that the thing sings, and then, he’s hunting for batteries.

The robot croons away in Spanish, swaying stiffly and tilting its creepy head. “Santa sounds like Louis Armstrong,” Jisoo comments. Santa jerks unnaturally in time with a high note.

“It’s a Christmas miracle,” Jeonghan smiles, looking dreamy and satisfied. “He’s perfect.”

“This is getting weird,” Hansol says. “Can we go now?”

Jeonghan sighs. “I guess.” He grabs two coats from the rack to go over his and Jisoo’s pajamas. “What if he’s scared of the dark?”

Hansol walks out the front door without closing it at that, and Jisoo flicks on the kitchen lights.

❄

It’s cruelly nearing dawn when Hansol finally makes it into bed. They’d had to call an uber by the time they were finished, too dead on their feet to risk driving, and now Hansol can feel himself drifting off as he slides under the sheets.

There’s a rustling on the other side of the bed where Seungkwan is trying not to wake up. He’s mumbling confusedly, though not as confusedly as he should be considering someone is getting into his bed when he’s expecting no one. He manages a small questioning noise, eyebrows scrunched up despite his eyes staying closed.

“Hey,” Hansol whispers, settling in with an exhausted hum as his body does that awful thing where it cracks at each joint. Seungkwan seems satisfied enough; he smacks his lips and brings an arm across Hansol’s chest, getting acquainted easily. “Babe.” Hansol listens carefully for the tiny sound of acknowledgement Seungkwan makes. “Do I need to work out more?”

Seungkwan breathes deeper and for a second, Hansol thinks he’s unconscious again. Then, he gives his bicep a little pat and breathes, “You’re fine.” Hansol honestly isn’t sure if he’s even awake, but he smiles despite himself and falls asleep before he can think another thought.

❄

Hansol wakes up on the morning of December 24th to the sound of Mariah Carey being badly sung over and the smell of burnt toast. He fights his brain for as long as he can, grasping desperately at the dream he’d been chased out of by Seokmin’s forceful vibrato.

Seungkwan isn’t doing much better. Hansol can tell he’s trying not to yank the comforter over both their heads, though he doesn’t think he’d mind much if he did. Soonyoung is laughing. Screeching, really. It’s all very hard to handle on Hansol’s two hours of rest, when the bed is so warm and Seungkwan looks so willing to burrow here for a while. But Seokmin and Soonyoung are a force to be reckoned with, going for even the whistle tones of the song with commendable effort.

Seungkwan seems to be growing more accepting of all this with every note. He’s a Mariah fan, after all, and he loves Christmas, and it’s finally Christmas Eve. Hansol bets that in a matter of minutes, he’ll be singing, too. With this bunch, most things are only a matter of time. Hansol takes in the last few moments of “All I Want for Christmas Is You” and isn’t even surprised when he peels his eyes open to find Seungkwan grinning over him with a hand on his chest.

“Merry Christmas Eve,” Seungkwan beams, jostling Hansol under his palm until he gives up and laughs. Hansol has the terribly soft thought of waking up with Seungkwan several Christmas Eves from now and seeing that same smile, and being just as weak to it. And Seungkwan has a weakness for Hansol’s softness, too, so his eyes go all warm and he leans down to kiss Hansol’s face all over. “It’s moooooooorning,” he sings in between pecks, making Hansol scrunch up his nose in embarrassment.

“G’morning,” Hansol replies roughly, wrapping his arms around Seungkwan’s waist and pulling him into a hug. Though, Seungkwan sort of topples onto Hansol, so it’s less of a hug and more like Hansol allowing himself to be slowly suffocated. Either way, Seungkwan smells good and he’s nicely cushioned, so it’s a comfortable kind of crushing.

Just when they’re getting relaxed again, the door suddenly slams open to reveal the horribly dressed Seokmin and Soonyoung, shaking maracas over their heads, marching around the room chanting “Christmas Eve! Christmas Eve!” and sounding all too rehearsed. Seungkwan groans into Hansol’s pillow as Seokmin hollers, “Get up, you gross lovebirds!” and activates his light-up sweater.

They stomp back out of the room as obnoxiously as they entered, leaving Seungkwan and Hansol to drag themselves up and after them, if only for the good of the other tenants.

 

Hansol knocks on his neighbors’ door that morning like a warning. There are too many unpleasant things he’s seen on regular Tuesdays as a result of barging in, and he’s definitely not about to try something so reckless on a holiday. He’s left standing for a minute as what sounds like a blender hums distantly.

When Minghao finally opens the door, he looks a little worse for the wear. He steps aside to let Hansol in wordlessly, running his fingers through his matted hair. Hansol tries not to question it, but as soon as he crosses the threshold, he sees Mingyu hurtling into the living room at full speed wearing only long johns. He freezes when he spots Minghao, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “You _didn’t_ ,” he seethes.

Minghao’s face hardens, chin raising in defiance. “I did.”

Mingyu frowns severely and Hansol can’t tell if he’s going to cry or what. He sniffles loudly, breathes like he’s about to say something cutting, then apparently thinks better of it. What Mingyu does instead is pick up a shoe from the floor, Hansol isn’t sure whose, and tosses it underhand a few feet away from him. Then, he runs back out of the room. It’s more of an outburst than Hansol has seen from him in a long time, actually.

Minghao scoffs and rolls his eyes, giving Hansol a pitiful look. Hansol says, “What.”

“I blended the last of the Choco Pies,” he explains, striding over to the blender coated in the evidence. He lifts it off its base and fills it with soap and water in the sink. “He had _six_ Hansol. Six. It was for his own good.”

Hansol isn’t about to argue. Mingyu will be upset for a few minutes, but it beats Christmas of 2013, when he stuffed himself with holiday chili all afternoon and got sick halfway through carol karaoke. “I trust your judgement.”

Hansol leaves Minghao to his cleaning and heads over to the closet where he hid everyone’s gifts over the winter. Mingyu is in bed with his head cradled on Junhui’s chest while they watch _Elf_ on the television. Mingyu looks all right now, giggling occasionally at Will Ferrell’s antics. Junhui gives Hansol a little wave and wishes him a merry Christmas.

Wonwoo is in the guest bedroom with roll after roll of wrapping paper and tape, making quick work of his presents. “Hey, Hansol,” he greets amiably, but there’s a smirk he doesn’t bother to keep hidden. Hansol stumbles over to the bed to drop everything in his arms before joining him on the floor. Wonwoo just looks at him.

“Yes,” Hansol says. “I got Seungkwan a gift.”

“Just making sure,” Wonwoo smiles. “It’s amazing how you managed to get everyone else something.”

Hansol pulls down a small box from the bed. It’s a collector’s edition Naruto figure that he found on Amazon for Jisoo and it cost enough for Hansol to question himself, but ultimately, he sacrificed the twenty-five dollars. He figured it could make up for all the times he’s been a bit late on rent or forgotten to unload the dishwasher or whatever. “No offense, but for you guys, I don’t try that hard.”

Wonwoo silently hands him a roll of wrapping paper and scissors. “None taken.”

“Seungkwan’s has to be… perfect. I’m nervous about giving it to him, to be honest,” Hansol admits without thinking. Wonwoo’s really open and attentive in a way that makes him easy to talk to, and Hansol always finds himself telling him his troubles.

“Yeah?” He preps a sheet of tissue paper before placing it inside a pretty gift bag.

“Yeah. I’m kind of afraid it, like, totally sucks.” Hansol struggles with folding the wrapping paper over an edge of the box, watching his fingers fumble over the creases before looking up to Wonwoo for help.

Wonwoo reaches over to fix it, pulling the paper tightly over the edge, making everything look nice and neat. “Didn’t Jihoon help you with it? And Soonyoung?”

“Yeah…”

“Do they think it sucks?” Wonwoo cringes at the sound of Mingyu squealing in the other room.

“Well, no,” Hansol concedes. “What they helped with doesn’t suck, but I’m afraid my specific stuff is gonna end up…lame.” He finishes taping up Jisoo’s gift, feeling dumb and inarticulate. He doesn’t know how to put it into words that his gift has the potential to make him look really uncool.

“Well,” Wonwoo starts diplomatically, “Even if your stuff is trash, Seungkwan will probably still let you hang around him?” He huffs a laugh through his nose, still trying to keep his face serious. “I mean, you might have to sleep on the floor, but…”

Hansol grumpily tosses the tape back to Wonwoo. “Shut up. I know he won’t hate me, but I want it to be really good.”

“You want what to be good?” Minghao’s voice says as he steps inside the bedroom and flattens out on the floor, face in his hands.

“His gift for Seungkwan.”

“Ooh,” Junhui’s says, appearing suddenly with Mingyu by his side. “What did you get Seungkwan?” The two of them join in, cross-legged on either side of Minghao, filling out what’s now become a gift-wrapping circle.

“You’ll see,” Hansol murmurs.

“Oh, he’s _embarrassed_ ,” Junhui teases, bumping Hansol’s shoulder with his own. Mingyu laughs, stretching across the circle to slap Hansol’s knee playfully. Hansol scowls, because he didn’t ask for any of this. He just came here to finish wrapping his presents so he could get them under the tree before the party, not to be heckled by his weird friends about his conceivable demise at the hands of mortal humiliation.

He swats Mingyu’s hand away and pulls down another gift from the bed - three tickets to a hockey game for Seungcheol. Wordlessly, he snatches a bag from Wonwoo’s little collection, shoving the tickets in with an ugly fistful of mismatched tissue paper as the others crack jokes about Seungkwan’s life plans without Hansol.

“I hope it’s not clothes,” Junhui says, “because-”

“Because he dresses like a kindergartner that plays basketball and cuts his own shorts,” Minghao finishes for him and they cackle into their evil hands.

Hansol says, “Wow.”

Wonwoo watches on in visible discomfort. “Stop it, all of you,” he says, finally, taking the gift bag from Hansol’s hands and flattening the tissue paper out on the carpet. “Hansol, watch how I do this. And leave him alone, the rest of you.” He brings the paper to a point and fluffs out the rest, making the bag look full in a way that it isn’t. “Hansol,” he says again, making sure he’s watching. “Don’t mix red and blue, please. And Seungkwan won’t leave you. Even if your gift is, like, a toilet paper pyramid.”

Junhui nods in agreement, looking sorry. “It’s true. He’d probably be impressed if you did that.”

“Yeah, he’s so far up your-”

“Minghao, come on.” Wonwoo interrupts. “But he’s right.”

“Yeah, Hansollie,” Mingyu adds. “One time, Wonwoo forgot me at the grocery store, but I still love him.”

“ _Hey_ -”

“Wonwoo’s forgotten me at the mall…” Junhui says slowly.

“Uh,” says Hansol.

“All right, this isn’t the ‘Where Has Wonwoo Forgotten Me Hour,’” Wonwoo protests. Minghao mouths the word ‘forgotten’ with wide eyes. “The point is, Seungkwan will love whatever you give him. And you, for the rest of time, probably.”

Hansol fights a smile that’s creeping up, not yet willing to give Wonwoo the satisfaction of being right like always. He takes back Seungcheol’s gift bag and they continue wrapping until Mingyu brings in snacks, which sidetracks them for a good while. They get it all done, though, and haul everything into Hansol and Jisoo’s apartment in one impressive and precarious trip.

❄

The party’s in full swing, and Jeonghan must be in some sort of heaven. Robot Santa is a hit, everyone’s enjoying his cookies, and he’s got a heavily spiked glass of eggnog in one hand with the stereo remote in the other. He’s watching the guests and pacing around the room like an overinvolved supervisor, and this isn’t even his place.

Things are going well for everyone else, too. Jihoon is under the tree like a terrible little elf, shaking all the gifts. It’s amazing how much he pretends to be annoyed by all the festivities when this is clearly where he belongs. He holds Hansol’s gift for him up to his head, jostling it. Hansol watches on in awe as Jihoon appraises the box. “They’re shoes,” he says with certainty.

“Hey…” Jihoon’s onto the next gift with his villainous smirk before Hansol can even scold him for ruining the fun.

Seungkwan and Chan are talking about something in the kitchen. Well, it’s more like Seungkwan is talking about something very enthusiastically, gesturing expressively, and Chan is humoring him. Either way, they look like they’re having fun, and Hansol smiles at the scene. Seungkwan is all flush with happiness and it’s a really good look for him.

In the living room, people are dancing badly and singing worse to the Justin Bieber Christmas album, a record with which Hansol is painfully familiar. Soonyoung and Wonwoo are leading the vocals, harmonizing discordantly with their arms around each other while Mingyu claps along in silent laughter. Junhui and Minghao are performing what looks like an intensely choreographed dance routine, complete with minor acrobatics that Hansol would be worried about if they were being done by literally anyone else.

Seungcheol and Jisoo have an inebriated Seokmin sprawled across their laps on the couch, who they’re feeding saltine crackers and sips of water as often as they can between him blasting their ears off with sporadic freestyle raps. It’s classic Christmas Seokmin, really.

When it’s time for gifts, Jeonghan turns down the music with his remote and delicately taps his empty eggnog glass against the kitchen table, which doesn’t much noise, but it _does_ make Jisoo go, “Noooooooo!” and maybe that was the desired effect, after all.

Jihoon gleefully crawls out from behind the tree and scurries up the couch, bouncing in his seat like a kid. “Let’s go!” yells Seokmin from his new place on the floor under Seungcheol and Jisoo’s slightly panicked faces. “I’m cool,” he assures them, hiccuping.

“Who wants to go first?” Jeonghan asks once everyone is seated in the living room. He has a wand now; Hansol’s not sure where he got it, but he wields it like a scepter as he stands before them like Christmas King.

“I do!” says Chan, raising his hand. “I’m the youngest, the cutest, and the most deserving.”

Jeonghan beams at him. “That’s right! Chan is first!” He then bestows gift after gift, stacking them up around Chan’s cross-legged form as he tears into them eagerly.

Chan thanks everyone humbly with each new present. Although they’re mostly small and cheap things (new workout shirts from Soonyoung, a Michael Jackson poster from Hansol, and a shaving kit from Jeonghan), he seems so pleased and grateful that it sets a pleasant tone for the rest of the day. He hugs each and every one of them when he’s done, and neatly gathers all his gifts in a pile to take home.

Seungkwan is already misty-eyed at this, which was expected. More people take their turns, just as thankful and giddy as the rest, however differently they express it. All the while, Seungkwan looks to be getting closer to the edge, chewing on his lips and sniffling conspicuously. Hansol can’t help but kiss his cheek and smile fondly at him while he tries to fan his watery eyes.

What ends up getting him is Seokmin’s turn. Seokmin gets too honest when he’s drunk, which is usually hilarious to Seungkwan, but not today. Today, Seokmin is tearing off the wrapping paper of his gift from Soonyoung, the signed album of his favorite band. He bursts into tears as soon as he sees the sharpie autographs gracing the cover and Soonyoung is hugging him in an instant.

“I love you guys so much,” he blubbers through heaving breaths. Seungcheol is rubbing his back, giggling at the theatrics of Soonyoung squeezing the air from his lungs. “You’re my,” he snivels, “my f-family.”

Seungkwan is wiping tears from his chin when Hansol checks, which makes Hansol a bit tearful as well, but it mostly makes him really happy. Seungkwan cries a lot, but rarely is it for something so genuinely wonderful. Besides, it’s almost time for Seungkwan to get his gifts, and nerves overwhelm any other grand emotion Hansol could be feeling at the moment.

Jeonghan waves his scepter over them as though plotting things for greatest sentimental payoff. He glances between them, weighing his options. Everyone else is suddenly tense, either in on the secret or armed with enough knowledge about how this usually goes to be excited. They’re all expecting Hansol to give Seungkwan something stupid, like socks (first Christmas) or Vans (second Christmas), but they can all suck it, because this year is going to be different. He hopes.

Sure enough, the tip of Jeonghan’s wand lands in front of Seungkwan’s nose. He claps, so unaware of Hansol’s inner turmoil just a few inches away. Jeonghan hands him his gifts and Hansol watches him rip through each one in a daze, too distracted to offer much more than a weak “ooh” when Seungkwan spins to show him what he got. Seungkwan isn’t crying anymore, probably too preoccupied with having his moment of being the center of attention and receiving a pretty new sweater that Hansol never would’ve known to pick.

Too quickly, Seungkwan has opened everything under the tree for him, and it’s time for Hansol to face the music. Seungkwan turns to him expectantly, and then there’s the recognizable sound of his friends cheering him on, half diabolical and half proud. He’s frozen in his seat for a second, stricken with terror, but Jeonghan has it under control. He holds a hand out to help him up, nodding encouragingly. He and Jihoon get to setting things up as Hansol takes his place in front of the living room.

He watches his friends’ waiting faces, gathering up his courage. Seungcheol catches his eye and gives him a thumbs up; Chan sees that and mirrors it. Hansol wipes his sweaty palms across his jeans and clears his throat, avoiding Seungkwan’s heavy stare. “Um,” he begins. “This year, I was told by a lot of people to give you something from the heart. You, Seungkwan,” he clarifies awkwardly and unnecessarily. “I hope this qualifies, and I want to say thanks to everyone who helped me out. And, uh, enjoy.”

He rushes back to his seat, out of breath somehow and ready to pass away when he hears the first few notes of the song on the speakers. Seungkwan looks positively amazed, covering his mouth while the others share equally thrilled looks. The instrumental is sweet and the group sways along to the easy rhythm of Jihoon’s guitar. The brass section Jihoon had toiled over compensating seems to be paying off - everyone appears to be pleasantly surprised as the first verse rolls in over the sound of light trumpets and a new bass line.

Jisoo’s voice goes perfectly with the music, just soft and pretty enough, but Hansol’s trying not to rip his own ears off at the sound of his lyrics being sung at him for everyone, but especially Seungkwan, to hear. Seungkwan keeps nearly giving himself whiplash with how he’s trying to watch Hansol, Jisoo, Jeonghan, and Jihoon all at once. Hansol can’t even bear to look at him, so he looks at everyone else.

As Jeonghan’s voice takes over the pre-chorus, Hansol sees Wonwoo and Mingyu dancing along in their seats, with Minghao and Junhui looking very focused beside them. Seungcheol is grinning openly, hands curled up around his face like he’s holding in a squeal. It helps Hansol relax a little, seeing that no one is judging him.

The chorus sounds as good as Hansol had hoped it would, Jeonghan and Jisoo’s voices blending effortlessly and the music building onto itself in a way that gets everyone to applaud a little bit. It’s here where the point is really driven home that this is a _love song_ where it could’ve easily been mistaken for a song about friendship earlier. So Hansol’s blushing now, and though it’s nothing Seungkwan’s hasn’t heard before, he feels sort of raw and exposed.

It’s also at this point that Seungkwan starts up the waterworks again, because it’s becoming very clear that this is for him. It may sound generic to anyone else, but there are real pieces of Hansol in this that Seungkwan would know to pick up on, and Hansol is glad that he has. The next verse continues in the same direction, with the lyrics bordering on embarrassingly personal, and Seungkwan giggles tearfully at the little references Hansol makes to their relationship.

The true highlight, the part that has Hansol sweating, is the rap. Hansol had been so uncertain while recording it, unconfident in everything from his voice to the lyrics to its very placement in the song. Jihoon convinced him that it was needed, pushing him into the booth by saying “Without your voice on the track, it’ll sound like Jeonghan and Jisoo are confessing.”

When it starts up, Seungkwan gasps, and so does about half the room. They’ve never heard Hansol seriously rapping before, so this is probably the biggest surprise. There’s a hint of a smile audible in Hansol’s voice, and he remembers feeling shy during the recording. Even now, Jihoon is laughing to himself, hopefully at the memory and not at the actual rap. Seungkwan seems to be in a state of shock, holding still with his mouth open. He looks like he’s trying to memorize every word and that makes Hansol hyper aware of each minute reaction on his face.

The rest of the song gives Hansol a minute to breathe, now that the worst is over. Some of them are humming along already, and it all seems like a testament to Jihoon’s skill. Hansol knows he couldn’t have done this without him, and if he pulls it off at all, it’ll be thanks to him. It wraps up so nicely, but Seungkwan flings himself onto Hansol before it’s actually over. “Oh, Hansol,” he cries. “That was so beautiful.” He sounds even worse than Seokmin, wailing his words adorably.

Hansol hugs him tightly. “Really?”

Seungkwan pulls back to look him in the eye. He opens his mouth like he’s about to say something dramatic, but instead of speaking, Seungkwan kisses Hansol hard, cupping his face in his hands. Hansol can taste Seungkwan’s tears, which is kind of gross when he thinks about it. Luckily, his thoughts are driven away by his friends’ loud protests of their display. Somebody even gags, and he thinks he hears Jeonghan coo at them, which is almost worse.

Seungkwan turns to clutch his chest, ignoring all their groans as he weeps, “My boyfriend is amaaaaaaazing.” Then, he snatches Jeonghan’s wand out of his hand and shoves it nearly up Hansol’s nose, shouting “Hansol!” He scrambles to the tree, easily finding his own gift tastefully wrapped in Happy Birthday wrapping paper and handing it to Hansol. As Hansol carefully peels at the paper, Seungkwan starts to explain. “I wanted to get you something from the heart, too,” he says, still sniffling.

Hansol tosses away the last of the wrapping to reveal a small book, thick with glossy pages. It reads “To a Good Year (and a Half)” on its front cover in what looks like Seungkwan’s own handwriting. Hansol already feels sort of emotional just looking at the outside, but it’s nothing compared to how he feels when he opens it up. Seungkwan starts narrating again, shakily and with fresh tears, as they flip through the pages. “There’s us when we first met,” he says, pointing to the first picture of them, taken early in the summer they started dating. They look awkward but happy, which is mostly how Hansol remembers their courtship.

“Um, this is a picture of a sandwich you made me,” Seungkwan laughs to himself. “It’s dumb, but I felt like I had to put it in here.”

Hansol shakes his head. “It’s not dumb,” he chokes out. The next pages have photos from their first dates, candids their friends took of them at Seungkwan’s work, sneaky pictures Seungkwan took of Hansol while he was studying. They all have this warmth to them, a nostalgia he didn’t know was inside him. Now that he’s looking back on it all, he feels just as weepy as Seungkwan. Each picture has a story to match it, a story of Hansol and Seungkwan becoming “Hansol and Seungkwan” and that’s so amazing to be able to see, to hold in his hands.

They’re both talking and crying at the same time, adding context to each page with mumbled half-sentences that only they can really understand, and their friends are watching it in disgust. “When did this become the Seungsol Hour?” asks Seokmin.

“Let the kids enjoy it,” Junhui scolds him, endeared by their nonsense.

“And that’s the… the-” Seungkwan stutters.

“Soda park,” Hansol supplies, and they sigh together in remembrance.

Chan says, “What does that even mean.”

None of them know.

 

The party ends sometime after people have started falling asleep on common surfaces. This year, it starts with Junhui, who is lying unconscious in the middle of the living room rug where people are trying to dance. In his defense, it is late and people are dancing too sloppily for it to really count anymore. Hansol is paying his dues right now, singing a carol like he promised, and Seungkwan is swaying beside him in support.

Seungcheol and Jihoon are the first to head out, and they give everyone tight hugs before they go. Hansol and Jihoon clumsily embrace long enough for Hansol to thank him profusely for everything, and long enough for Jihoon to go, “Ah, okay,” as he tends to respond to compliments. Hansol lets him go, they had the angle all wrong, anyway, and Seungcheol is cutting in for his turn.

“I’m proud of you,” he says sincerely, snuggling into Hansol’s neck. He’s so embarrassing and Hansol can barely breathe, but he thanks him and means it. He kind of put everyone through a lot yesterday. Seungcheol squeezes him once more and says, “Anytime, man. Anytime.” Hansol knows he’s serious about that, which suddenly feels a bit profound. He supposes the Christmas spirit is really getting to him.

He’s not the only one affected, though, because Chan is allowing Jeonghan to fuss over his outerwear like a concerned parent, Seokmin and Soonyoung are calm, and nobody is bickering. It’s almost unnerving, but more than that, it’s lovely. Hansol watches it, feeling peaceful, and thinks about how he loves them all so much, even if he doesn’t go around saying it every few minutes like some of them do.

Seungkwan is watching, too, smiling to himself. Hansol bumps their shoulders, wraps an arm around his waist. “Merry Christmas,” he says quietly, just for him. Seungkwan rests his head against Hansol’s and more people head out the door, off to see their own families after saying goodbye for the night to this one. In the morning, they’ll visit Hansol’s parents and eat a civilized meal with them, but for now, they’re going to serenade their friends with a Christmas duet, and they’re going to sound great.

A merry Christmas, indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> On a serious note, I hope you are with people that love and accept you this holiday season and if not, my heart is with you.
> 
> thank you for reading! tell me your seventeen christmas headcanons on [ twitter](https://twitter.com/auntienamjoon) and [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/auntienamjoon) and let me know in the comments who you think the Robot Santa Dealer was 
> 
> p.s. special shout out to riley for pushing me to make seungkwan's name "boo thing" in hansol's phone! i was on the fence and she inspired me to free myself and live authentically. thanks riley <3


End file.
